The Thin Red Line
by piticbob
Summary: Something I found on my computer, written after the 11th episode of season 4. I wanted it out there in memory of BSG, awesome show that it was. A snippet in time that could have happened between Kara and Bill Adama.


A/N: This is written in dedication to the return of Battlestar Galactica. The thought stayed with me and I decided I should get it out before episode 12 comes out. I hope I wrote it well, if maybe a bit out of character...

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Kara left Colonial One in a state of shock. It's not that she had cared that deeply for Petty Officer Dualla, ex-wife to one Lee Adama that she loved fiercely, but she had never wished her ill or envisioned that the seemingly strong woman would bring about her own end.  
Later on she found out from Helo, who had talked to Gaeta, that Dee had been so very happy and 'glowing' before blowing her brains out. Helo proceeded to tell her of how the woman had freaked out while they were piloting the Raptor back to Galactica. In Helo's opinion, Dee had been extremely disappointed by Earth, perhaps more so than anyone else. Kara felt a knife of guilt quietly dig into her. With this information fresh on her mind, Kara headed for the Admiral's quarters.  
"Come in," was the reply she got to her knock, an exhausted voice on a face that looked like it had aged twenty years in the space of a day.  
"Sir," she greeted.  
"Starbuck."  
He sounded relieved to see her and Kara's heart did a little jig of joy. It looked like he wouldn't hold her responsible for the wreck they had placed all their hopes on. "Glad to see you're onboard. No one saw you check in. For a minute I was afraid we had lost you to Earth."  
His attempt at humour fell flat as soon as the faded smile disappeared and he seemed to register the double meaning of his words. Kara felt hot and cold at the same time, feverish with self-hatred, fear and confusion but she plodded on.  
"No chance, sir. You're stuck with me," she smiled, trying to encourage the Admiral into a less crestfallen frame of mind.

"Good; keep it that way."  
"Yes, sir," she performed a mock salute.  
Kara walked closer to where he was sitting at his desk and realised two things simultaneously: the Admiral had been drinking – he smelled of it and there was a telltale empty bottle on the table – and that he was looking at pictures. She was struck by his sadness. Dee's death had probably affected him much in the same way as losing a child. The two had been friendly and close before Lee's marriage to the former Petty Officer. Besides, she knew he took the death of his crew personally.  
"What can I do for you, Captain?"  
What to say? She had simply wanted to see him, to share a moment with him like they always did. She was riddled with doubts about her origins and while she hadn't planned to share them with him, his presence usually gave her a sense of stability. Maybe today wouldn't be the case. Maybe today it would be the other way around.  
"Nothing, sir. I heard... about Dee. I just wanted to see how you were doing."  
Bill looked away, his face scrunching up in pain.  
"Not so great, Starbuck. Not all that great."  
No one would know how close he had been to following in Dee's steps. He uttered a small prayer of thanks for Saul's stoicism. He had a job to do and he would do it as he'd promised the Fleet earlier. He would find humanity a home if it was the last thing he did. All of sudden, Bill felt _old_. Too old to be carrying such a task on his shoulders. The thought that Kara and Lee would probably pick up where he left – granted they survived – depressed him.  
He was surprised to have Kara's midriff blocking his view of the wall. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder.  
"Sir – Bill –" she tried, uncertain what to call him in this moment of intimacy.  
"Dad," he gritted out. It was like silver stitches, having this hope. "Call me dad." Would she accept it?

She did.  
The grip on his shoulder tightened.  
"_Dad_. Please..."  
Bill panicked briefly as he felt himself breaking down. He couldn't be weak now but it seemed like in this interim where rules had lost all sense even his feelings had a place. He had, after all, tried to kill himself by using Saul as type of human boomerang with bullets.  
Kara lowered herself to her knees, face compassionate. She didn't ask or say anything, just looked at him and then she hugged him. _Hugged_ him. Offered up her strength and support. In that little shred of time, Bill felt how Kara's tight embrace obliterated the world. Happiness that his daughter – because that's what she was, there was no doubt about it – could be depended upon. Family. This was family, this was what family did. It took care of you when you needed it, no questions asked.


End file.
